


the body i'd be buried in

by grimmyneutron



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Lots of sexual tension, Slow Burn, Sorry this happened, Vampire Academy AU, much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmyneutron/pseuds/grimmyneutron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hates when she catches him off-guard like this. Distantly, Bellamy hears Miller's voice and feels his friend's grip on his arm. "Damn it, Clarke," Bellamy curses as his vision swims. Stupid one way bond. </p><p>Or, Clarke is a vampire princess and Bellamy is the Guardian sworn to protect her.</p><p> </p><p>*** ON HIATUS ***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely the Vampire Academy AU no one asked for. Totally unedited and will ~somewhat~ follow the plot line of the first Vampire Academy book but obviously there will be some changes . I'm so sorry this is happening.  
> (All rights to Richelle Mead and CW, not me)

Bellamy's eyes follow her as she crosses the kitchen to lean her full weight against the sink. He can see her shoulders rise and fall heavily.

"When's the last time you fed?" He already knows the answer to this question but asks it anyway.

"Not hungry."

"Oh, come on, Princess-"

She huffs through a labored breath and glares at him. "Don't  _princess_ me. Stop treating me like I'm your damn charge."

He bites back a smile, feigns confusion and just to piss her off, says, "But you are my charge."

She makes a muffled shrieking sound and storms to the window. "I need to get out of this apartment."

"You're hungry. And agitated. Just feed, Clarke."

Her blue eyes flash to his as he cocks his head to the side with a smirk and taps two fingers against his throat.

"Bellamy, I-"

He pulls the neckline of his t-shirt aside, exposing the expanse of his neck, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. He rolls his eyes. "Don't tell me you're shy _now_."

She reluctantly pulls a kitchen chair close to his, only glancing away from his neck once, meeting his eyes as if to ask permission even though he's already given it to her. When he nods, she leans forward, pressing a gentle hand to his shoulder and sinks her fangs into his skin. The euphoria is instantaneous, and Bellamy is not even a little embarrassed when he lets out a groan at the feeling. After only a minute passes, he feels Clarke's teeth retract, and her tongue darts out, sliding smoothly across the broken skin that's already beginning to heal.

Clarke leans back in her chair, licking a spot of blood from the corner of her mouth. He can hear her heart pounding (his is as well), and her cheeks are flushed with more than renewed energy. "Thanks," She says weakly.

He manages a shrug, still coming down off the high. "What are friends for, Princess?"

Her answering smile makes his chest tighten briefly, but he pushes it down. "We'll have to relocate again soon," He says to change the subject, and knows without looking that her smile has fallen. "Been here a bit too long."

He spares a glance out the window and in the same moment that Clarke replies, "They're probably not even looking for us," he catches a glimpse of black darting through the evening shadows.

Bellamy hates coincidences.

"You just had to jinx us," He says, hopping to his feet. He grabs his backpack, in it a borrowed (stolen) silver stake, courtesy of the Academy. "Time to go."

"They're here?" Clarke says, also jumping out of her chair. Panic flashes in her eyes, but she quells it and her face shifts into a mask of determination. She looks to him.

Right. She's looking to him. For guidance. For safety. He nods and holds her gaze. "Stay close at all times, follow my every order, and _don't be brave_ -"

"But I can-"

"Just like we practiced," He continues firmly. He lifts an eyebrow in question and when she nods, he grabs her by the wrist and all but drags her out of the apartment. 

The alley is quiet behind their apartment, but Bellamy knows better. He listens, focuses, and turns around a split second before a figure in black hurtles at him. The figure lands a solid punch to his ribcage, and the pain momentarily blinds him before he kicks off the offender.

"Bellamy!" Clarke shrieks.

He focuses again, shoves Clarke back against the wall of the alley and turns around to face the Guardian.

The Guardian tries to get Bellamy to circle with him, to move away from Clarke, but Bellamy learned that trick first year of training. He doesn't budge but glances to his left and right. He knows the Guardian didn't come alone.

The Guardian lunges again, and Bellamy is ready. They grapple, Bellamy giving as good as he's getting until he manages to kick the Guardian away to buy some time. The Guardian's hood has fallen to reveal a dark-skinned man with a bald head and a very annoyed look on his face. He has a split lip, but doesn't move his eyes away from Bellamy.

In the back of his mind, he can feel Clarke's fear as two other Guardians emerge from the shadows.  _Focus_.

This time, it's he who attacks, lunging forward with a fist. He realizes his mistake even before the Guardian has grabbed the extended limb and twisted it painfully behind his back. He sees the two Guardians charging for Clarke. _Focus_.

"Run, Clarke!" Bellamy yells before slamming his head back against the Guardian's. He makes contact and the man releases Bellamy with a cry. The Guardians have caught up with Clarke, and she lands a well-aimed kick in the groin that has one of them doubling-over.

"Bellamy!" Clarke yells as she struggles. The remaining upright Guardian has her firm in his grip, and Bellamy braces to attack again when his legs are knocked out from under him and his head hits the ground. The last thing he hears as the darkness closes in is Clarke yelling his name. 

* * *

The first thing he notices when he comes to is a new car smell. The second is that he is in the passenger seat of said new car. And the third...

"Really?" He jiggles his cuffed wrist against the door handle.

The same bald Guardian in the driver's seat glances sideways at him but says nothing, and his eyes return to the road.

"Clarke?" Bellamy says, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He's not sure it's working, but a familiar voice from behind him calms his nerves immediately.

"Right here," Clarke says, sandwiched between two Guardians in the backseat.

Bellamy relaxas a little but allows himself to glance at her through the rearview mirror approximately every ten seconds.

"Bellamy, this is Indra and Gustus," Clarke says after a few minutes of silence, gesturing to the female and male Guardians flanking her. She points to the driver of the car. "And that's Lincoln."

"A pleasure," Bellamy growls in a tone that makes sure everyone in the car knows that it's not, indeed, a pleasure. One of the Guardians in the backseat snorts.

"Where are you taking us?" He asks the driver, Lincoln.

Lincoln doesn't respond for a moment, his eyes on the narrow, woods-lined road ahead. "St. Vladimir's."

"Right, of course," Bellamy says, fidgeting with the cuff on his right hand. "Can't wait to be back."

Clarke stifles a laugh behind her palm. Her thought projects outward, into his mind easily.  _Kane's gonna come down on you so hard._

He catches her eye in the mirror and bites back a grin. "I know," He says out loud.

Lincoln shoots him a strange look, and then focuses back on the road.

It's a dark night as they drive through the forested road to St. Vladimir's. The moon is shrouded by clouds and without its light, the forest is ominous. They reach the gates of the Academy, and Bellamy allows himself to look upon the grand stone pillars with disdain.

Then, he notices it. "Where are the gatekeepers?"

Lincoln makes a low, growling sound in his throat, as if he was thinking the same thing. "Indra, Gustus," He says quietly, flicking his head to the right.

All three of them exit the vehicle at the same time. Lincoln glares at Bellamy. "Stay put," He orders.

Bellamy wriggles his cuffed arm in response. "Not going anywhere."

"Bellamy..." Clarke says from the backseat when they're left alone in the car.

"It's all right," He reassures, scanning the outside woods surrounding them.

Clarke huffs. "Not what I was asking. Look!"

She leans forward and points across him, to the shadows of the forest. At first, he sees nothing, even with his trained eyes. Then a sliver of moonlight exposes the pale figure in the darkness. 

Strigoi.

"Lincoln!" Bellamy shouts to the Guardian, who is combing the area, looking the completely wrong way. 

He struggles with his restraint. "Princess, do you have a-"

A small hair pin appears in front of his face before he can finish. He grunts a thanks, and when he jiggles the pin into the cuff, the Strigoi descend. 

There's more than one, less than five. Clarke stifles a scream in her hand as one sails towards Lincoln, who deflects it with a powerful blow.

The cuff comes undone. Bellamy whips around and looks Clarke in the eye. "Do not get out of this car. Do you understand?"

She nods frantically, glancing away towards the chaos outside.

He slips out the front passenger door right without another word, and immediatelt attracts the attention of the nearest Strigoi.

The creature stalks towards him, maroon eyes matte against the now bright moonlight. Its skin is pale, ashy, but it moves with a grace that only its kind can possess. Evil, undead, and bent on hunting humans, Dhampirs, and Morois alike. This one was once a man, and looking at him makes Bellamy nauseous.

It shrieks, charging at Bellamy, and he hears Indra's cry as he manages to deflect the Strigoi's attack with a swing of his arm.

"Get back in the car!" Lincoln yells, driving a silver stake into the chest of the Strigoi he'd been wrestling with. 

Bellamy reaches for his backpack, for his own silver stake, and finds his backpack missing. Shit. Shit shit shit _shit_.

He scrambles backwards, tripping and falling to the ground as the Strigoi charges towards him again, making him an easy target. Right as the creature leaps though, the back door to the car swings open, effectively blocking the Strigoi and sending it hurtling backwards to the ground. 

Clarke jumps out the car and grabs his arm to pull him up. "Run!" She cries.

But the Strigoi is already on its feet again, running full speed. Bellamy yanks Clarke to the ground, throws himself on top of her and holds his breath. Before the Strigoi can reach them, though it is dead on the ground with a stake in its back.

Lincoln stands above it, panting. "I told you," He says between labored breaths. "To stay in the car."

Clarke shoves Bellamy off her and sits up, brushing herself off. "Had to save my Guardian's life," She says as she hops to her feet.

Bellamy hates how smug she sounds.

When he pushes himself to a stand, Lincoln is in his face. "You put yourself and the princess in ridiculous danger just then. You are not a Guardian, you're a novice. You don't have the proper training to take on a Strigoi."

Bellamy swallows hard, feeling a lump of anger rise in his throat. He swallows it down and says, "There were too many of them. I had to try."

"To what?" Lincoln scoffs. "To get yourself killed? Or worse, turned?"

Bellamy opens his mouth, but Lincoln holds up a hand. "Get back in the car, Blake," He says. "That's an order."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so badly edited.
> 
> I also apologize for not explaining stuff last chapter!! So Clarke is a Moroi vampire (the good kind) and she happens to be of a royal bloodline. Bellamy is half-vampire/half-human, a Dhampir, and his role is to act as Guardian to any Moroi. Strigoi are any humans, Dhampirs or Morois that have been bitten/killed and are basically just blood-sucking animals that can't go out during the day.
> 
> I promise it's not as weird as it sounds (or it is idk). Thx for bearing with me u guys rule xoxo

_They could have brought us in during the day_ , Bellamy thinks as he, Clarke and the three guardians flanking them walk across the teeming quad. Students everywhere gawk at their spectacle. It's midnight, most likely fourth period, and distantly Bellamy realizes how messed up his sleep schedule is going to be now that he's back at the Academy. He's drawn back to the present when his ears pick up the word "blood whore" from one of the passing students. He fixes a Moroi boy with an icy glare that makes the Moroi stop in his tracks.

 _Ignore them,_ Clarke's train of thought swims through his ears easily, and he relaxes a little. 

"Some parade, you've made of us, Lincoln," Clarke snips as a few Moroi students giggle when they pass. Bellamy is grateful for the distraction, but he can feel her anger projecting outward, the cold rage of it hitting him like an icy wind. He attempts to place a gentle hand on her lower back, but she shrugs him off and quickens her pace across the quad. 

The headmaster's office is not as empty as Bellamy assumed it would be. Headmaster Kane is there, as well as one of the Moroi royals, Thelonious Jaha, and his Guardian, David Miller. All three of them silently look upon the entering party with stern expressions.

" _So_ ," Bellamy says after no one speaks for a few moments.

"Bellamy Blake, if you want to remain in this room for the remainder of this conversation, I suggest you keep that mouth of yours shut," Headmaster Kane spits as he rises from his desk.

 _You are so screwed,_ he hears Clarke think.

He glares daggers at her, and she smirks.

"Clarke Griffin."

She sobers and stiffens. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"I just have one question."

Clarke nods, and Bellamy can tell by all the thoughts rushing through her head that she's biting back a snarky comment.

Kane comes around the left side of his desk and comes to stand in front of the two of them. "What," He says, as if even asking the question is an offense to his intelligence, " _on God's green earth_ , were you thinking?"

"It wasn't safe for her here, so we left," The words leave Bellamy's mouth before he can stop them.

Kane inhales sharply through his nose and turns his heated glare on Bellamy. "I don't believe it's your place to answer that question, Mister Blake."

"He's right though," Clarke says, her voice surprisingly quiet. "I had to leave. It wasn't safe."

Kane laughs, an empty humorless sound. He looks back at Bellamy. "And what, may I ask, is so unsafe about the best-protected school in this country?"

_Don't answer that._

"I wasn't going to," Bellamy snaps at Clarke without thinking.

"Excuse me?" Kane says.

Clarke gawks at him, mouth floundering open. He can't say he feels much differently. The silence settles for just a brief moment, and Bellamy can hear a litany of  _shit shit shit shit_ floating through Clarke's mind.

"They have the bond."

Every head in the room swivels to see Lincoln, no longer posed like a statue against the wall, as Dhampirs are apt to do when listening in on a private conversation. He steps forward towards the circle of conversation and stands relatively close to Bellamy. He is huge, and a bit intimidating, Bellamy must admit, even though they aren't that much different in height. Everyone knows Lincoln is the best Guardian out there; a god, many of the novices call him. The other Guardians would never admit to it, but they too think him god-like.

"What?" Jaha speaks for the first time since the conversation began.

At the exact same moment, Kane says, "Impossible."

Lincoln narrows his eyes at Kane. "I witnessed them exchanging thoughts in the car."

 _Snitch,_  Clarke thinks.

"Fascinating," Jaha leans back in his chair and folds his hands together in front of him, a pensive expression on his face.

Suddenly, Bellamy notices a particular absence in the Headmaster's office. "I think it would be best if we invited Maya to your office, Headmaster."

Kane's face goes ashen, and Jaha shifts in his seat. "Miss Vie," The Moroi royal says, "no longer holds a position at this institution."

"What?" Clarke squeaks, panic slipping into her voice.

"Where is she?" Bellamy snaps.

"You're in no position to be making demands right now, Blake," Kane says firmly. "Miss Vie no longer works here."

He continues before Bellamy can further interrogate him. "Now, Miss Griffin. I cannot, in respect to our monarchy and your future, expel you from St. Vladimir's. As successor to the crown, you will need further training, and I believe you have yet to declare a specialty, is that correct?"

Clarke's brow wrinkles. "Successor?"

Jaha clears his throat, and then coughs deeply. "Clarke, you are aware I'm ill."

"Yes, sir, but what does that-"

"I have been passed over as heir to to King Dante's throne."

Bellamy's jaw drops open without his permission.  _Holy shit._

Clarke makes a strange noise low in her throat, something between a gurgle and a whine. She clears it and stutters, "So that, that means-"

"-that you are next in line for the throne, yes."

"I'm going to be Queen?" Clarke sounds like she's going to vomit.

Jaha fidgets in his seat and folds his hands, the color disappearing from his knuckles as he clenches them. "Your family - your parents, to be specific - were next in line after myself, and due to their passing, you take their place."

"What about Wells? Why can't your son take your place?" Clarke's voice shakes, and Bellamy hates the sound quite possibly more than anything ever.

"Clarke," Jaha says softly. "You know the practice. Wells does not fall into the rotation. Yours, however, is a special circumstance. The passing of your parents occurred before I revoked my place in line. Your family was next to take the throne."

"So you can understand," Kane says. "That when the _sole heir to the Moir Monarchy_ disappeared from the safety of this Academy, we were a bit concerned."

"Yes, sir, I understand," Clarke replies.

"Right." Kane turns sharply to focus on Bellamy. "So while we can forgive Miss Griffin, unfortunately for you, Mister Blake, I'm afraid your offenses cannot go unpunished. I have no choice but to expel you from this institution."

"Marcus-" Jaha says quickly.

Clarke interrupts him, but her voice is calm as her head tilts to the side and she gazes intently, softly, at the headmaster. Her lips curl up in the corner, and - _oh my god,_ Bellamy chokes. She's _compelling_  the headmaster.

"Come now, Headmaster," Clarke says, her voice honey-sweet and smooth. "Surely you won't _expel_ Bellamy. He's a talented student with much potential. You'll let him stay."

Kane's eyes glaze over, and he nods. "Very talented, indeed."

"Let's just put this whole incident behind us. We'll be on our best behavior, we promise."

"Yes, of course you would. Fine then, you two must be tired. To your dormitories, then," Kane nods and waves his hand.

"Sir," Lincoln says, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What about the Strigoi attacks? They were nearly on school grounds."

"I believe we should let our two students get some rest. They've had a long journey," Jaha says. "We can discuss this matter in their absence."

A feeling of unease settles in Bellamy's stomach as Lincoln escorts him and Clarke out of the headmaster's office. They walk in silence to Clarke's dorm, and when they are safely inside, Bellamy asks, "Did you _really_ just use compulsion on the headmaster?" It comes out a little harsher than he means it to.

Clarke snorts. "Are you scolding me for it? I saved your ass back there! So you're welcome."

"Gee," He says sarcastically, something dark and resentful bubbling up inside his chest. "Thanks so much."

Clarke's eyes flash with something dark as well, but there's no invitation into her head so he has no warning when she snaps, "What is your _problem_? You would have been _expelled_! What would your sister think? And your mother?"

"You act like getting expelled is a bad thing!"

"For a Dhampir, it's the _worst_ thing! What would you do, Bellamy? Live a life of misery surrounded by humans? You would lose everything!"

"Well, have you ever considered that maybe I don't want to be your _Guardian_?"

The words come out wrong. He knows it the second they roll off his tongue and sees the hurt flash in her eyes. He hadn't meant _her_ Guardian; God, he would follow her off the edge of a cliff if it meant any possibility she would be unharmed when they hit the ground. It's just - being a Guardian, being a Dhampir - he's never had a _choice_. If he decided against joining the Guard, he'd be exiled, shunned, and alone. And she doesn't understand that, and he's sorry. He wants to say all of this and more to get the horrible, agonizing look of utter and complete betrayal off her face that he put there in the first place.

He starts to apologize, but apparently Clarke isn't finished with him yet. "Well, don't worry, I'm safe now. No longer in need of a babysitter." She turns away from him, towards her bedroom. "Now excuse me," She throws over her shoulder, "I have to go have a panic attack over the fact that I'm going to be Queen probably before I even turn twenty!"

"Clarke, that's not what I meant. I'm-" Bellamy starts.

"No, you don't get to be sorry!" She screeches, whirling on him. "I have to do this. I don't have a _choice_."

"Neither do I," He says quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Her blue eyes fill with understanding tears, and she lets out a large sob along with a broken, "Sorry."

He reaches for her, and she falls into his embrace without hesitation. The force of her weight knocks them down onto her couch, and she continues to cry, but the sobs eventually die down into sniffles. Bellamy cards his fingers through her hair until he feels her breathing slow into unconsciousness.

"You're not a burden," He says quietly. He's not even sure if she's awake anymore, but the lull of sleep is tugging at him and he needs to say it. "Not even close."

* * *

Bellamy gasps awake, but he isn't in Clarke's dorm. He's in the parking lot, next to the car Maya lent them. Maya is in front of him, speaking frantically, and it takes him a moment to focus on what she's saying.

"Just head west. Stay no more than a few months wherever you go. Be smart. Listen to Bellamy, and you'll survive."

_What?_

"But Miss Vie-" The voice that leaves his mouth is not his, it's Clarke, and he knows this is her dream. He's in her head, again, without meaning to be.

"Getting away from here is the only thing that will save you. Do not practice your magic. Do you understand, Clarke?"

Clarke turns away and reaches out to open the car door. That's when Bellamy sees the cuts decorating her arm; deep lacerations, red slowly rolling out of the wounds. Clarke's scream leaves his mouth, and when she turns around to face Maya, it isn't Maya anymore.

A Strigoi stands before her, with Maya's hair and Maya's face and even a trace of what was once Maya's smile, but the ashy pallor of her skin and the redness of her eyes proved it wasn't Maya at all.

The Strigoi lunges, and Bellamy starts awake to Clarke thrashing in his arms. He tries to restrain her flailing limbs. "Clarke. Clarke!"

She stills against his chest, then sits up and whips around to look at him with wide eyes. "Did I - were you - Sorry."

"Don't be," Bellamy says. He means it.

"I don't even remember falling asleep."

"Miss Vie was in your dream," He observes.

"I know," Clark says. "Isn't it weird? That she's not here, I mean. And that no one would say where she was."

Bellamy is about to reply when the door to Clarke's room bursts open. His sister stands in the door way and pins the two of them with a such a venomous look that Bellamy hears Clarke swallow nervously beside him.

"Where. Have You. _Been_?" Octavia says, every word sharp enough to cut glass.

"Octavia, I-"

She violently throws up a hand that stops Bellamy's explanation. "You don't call. You don't text. No carrier pigeon. No telegram. Nothing! For a whole month! I haven't heard from you since you left _Portland_."

Over a month ago, Bellamy realizes, is the last time he's talked to his sister. "I know, O, but-"

"When were you two planning on telling me you came back?" Octavia's eyes are blazing.

"I was gonna come by your room," Bellamy says, getting to his feet, and he really was, until his argument with Clarke. "But we fell asleep. I'm sorry, O."

She folds her arms, furiously blinking her eyes up to the ceiling as if to hold back tears. "I was worried, you idiot."

He steps forward and holds his arms out. "I know, and I'm sorry."

She tackles him, jumping into his arms and burying her face in his neck. "Missed you," She says against his shirt collar.

He squeezes her tight, only now realizing how much he missed her too. "Me too," He says.

After a moment of silence, she wriggles out of his grasp and throws herself at Clarke. Once she'd given what she deemed an appropriately long squeeze and a swat on the head, Octavia says, "Missed you too, Clarke. Lexa's been looking for you. We're having a bonfire near the tree line tonight and she told me to invite you guys."

Bellamy and Clarke share a nervous look, and Octavia grins. "What, did you not think there'd be a welcome-back party?"


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke nibbles her lip as she follows Octavia and Bellamy across the quiet campus of St. Vladimir's Academy. Dawn has just broken over the distant hills, and Clarke tries not to roll her eyes every time Bellamy glances back to make sure she's using her sunshade. It's not like the sun's going to kill her; it's just a mild annoyance, a small worry. But all Bellamy ever seems to do is worry, so she appeases him - for the most part. He turns his gaze back to Octavia and laughs at something she's said. They look incredibly happy to be back in each other’s company, and it’s like watching two halves of one whole get glued back together.

Octavia, only just seventeen (Bellamy was on the phone in the hotel bathroom for  _two whole hours_ on her birthday, and Clarke tried not to be jealous), is one of the most promising Guardians in her class and had even managed to best Bellamy on the mats once before he and Clarke had fled. She is every bit the strong, clever, kind best friend Clarke has never deserved.

She feels a sharp twinge in her chest when Octavia shoves Bellamy playfully and he actually stumbles sideways a bit, still laughing. He smiles so much more around his sister than anyone else. Clarke aches for the closeness they share. Don't get her wrong, Bellamy being inside her head every now and then brings about a certain type of closeness that she herself is still adjusting to, it's just-

She misses her parents, badly.

More than she has admitted to anyone, even Octavia, who - up until this whole stupid bond thing happened - had been the only one who knew what went on in Clarke's head.

It's strange, she thinks, that of the two Blake siblings, she has been bonded with the one who she could never quite read, the one she was never sure how to get close to. Until the accident.

Memories of the that night over a year ago suddenly flash in her mind, and she stops dead in her tracks, so caught up in the vision that she barely hears Bellamy's voice calling out her name.

_She feels a warm wetness on her face, and her ears are ringing. She’s vaguely aware that she’s lying against the car ceiling._

_She wants to open her eyes, but everything hurts too much, even breathing. Especially breathing. The rise and fall of her chest causes a sharp splintering pain down her side._

_She’s going to die._

_She fumbles outward, grasping at something, anything, and touches cold skin. Opening her eyes takes everything inside of her, but she sees Bellamy, glass and blood sprinkled across his face._

_“Bellamy,” She tries to say, but she doesn’t think it makes a sound. Who knows, she can’t hear anything over the ringing in her ears. She’s going to die. But not Bellamy, he can’t._

_Grabbing his hand, not quite warm but not completely icy, she forces every bit of her strength outward, trying to push it towards him. For a moment, nothing happens, and she thinks he might be gone. No no no no no. Not Bellamy. Not now. Not him._

_She forces everything she has into him, all her energy and her spirit and_ goddamn it _he is not going to die. Breathing hurts, but she’s gasping for breath because she’s so tired, so so tired, and the wetness on her face might be tears now, not blood, because she did not save Bellamy Blake._

_“I’m sorry,” She croaks, and everything goes dark._

“Clarke,” A voice says. “ _Clarke_!”

Clarke feels a firm hand on her shoulder jar her back to the present, and Octavia is standing in front of her, a mix worry and confusion painting her features. Over Octavia's shoulder, Clarke catches Bellamy's stricken expression. He had seen it, then.

The accident. The night she lost her parents and nearly Bellamy too. She's not sure he's ever seen her memories of that night or if he even has any of his own, though she doubts it.

"You good?" Octavia asks, raising an eyebrow to an impressive height.

"Yeah," Clarke says, flashing a smile. Octavia knows about the accident but not about the bond her best friend and brother now share. "Just kind of tired. Sorry."

"Well, you better perk up because there is alcohol that needs drinking and homecomings that need celebrating." With that said, she turns on her heel and briskly jogs ahead, across the short expanse of grass to a trail leading into the trees. Beyond the trees, Clarke knows there's a wall, with patrolmen and everything, and she's safe. But she still hesitates.

"Are you really okay?” Bellamy asks, suddenly in her personal space.

“Yes,” She says, rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t – I don’t quite know how to control it. Like turn it on or off. I’m sorry.”

“You saved my life, Princess,” He says, looking at her seriously. “No need to be sorry.”

He pauses, looks her up and down, and then, "I can tell them you were tired. If you don't want to go, I mean."

"No," She says, squaring her shoulders. She looks at him and forces a grin. "Besides, who's going to save your ungrateful ass should something bad happen?"

"You'd be such a good Guardian," He snorts, throwing an arm around her neck affectionately, and that makes her stomach do weird things, but whatever. He doesn't remove it as they walk towards the tree line, and Clarke doesn’t mind.

* * *

The fire is small, in an open area where a long time ago some rebellious students had somehow manipulated a few trees out of the way and positioned the logs in a large, lopsided circle. The fire sits in the middle of the circle, illuminating faces and trees. There aren't that many people, and only a few Clarke doesn't recognize. Of course Wells spots her the second she and Bellamy step into the light of the bonfire.

"Clarke!" He shouts, successfully announcing their presence as he jumps to his feet and scoops her up in a hug.

She hugs him back with honest enthusiasm; she hadn't realized how much she'd missed her friends. "How are you? How's your dad?" She asks, because she has to pretend she didn't just see him hours ago.

Wells shrugs, his smile dimming a bit. "I’m good. He’s good. Still kickin' I guess." His smile is back at a thousand watts in a heartbeat when he lowers his voice and says, "Heard you're gonna be queen though."

She punches his arm. "Shut  _up_."

Lexa's there too, but she glares at Clarke across the fire rather than saying hello.

“I thought you said she’d been asking about me?” Clarke whispers furiously to Octavia.

“Oh,” Octavia says, grinning guiltily. “Yeah, I might have made that up just to get you to come out with us.”

“So she hates me?”

“Technically, yes, but is it that much of a loss?”

Clarke rolls her eyes and ignores Lexa’s glare to say hi to a few people. Two Dhampir students she knows, Miller and Kyle, and Raven, one of her Moroi friends who’s fairly dangerous with fire, greet her politely. A silence ensues, and Clarke knows they all want to ask about the ten months she was gone.  

"So did Blake let you sink your teeth into him or what?" Kyle says suddenly, taking a swig of his beer.

" _Wick_ , oh my  _god_ ," Raven snaps, simultaneously shooting Clarke an apologetic look and whacking Kyle on the back of the head.

"Jeez!" He grabs for the back of his head. "I didn't mean it like  _that_. Just, you know, you guys were on your own for a while and-"

"Yeah," Clarke says sharply. "When I was hungry, I ate."

"That's hot," Kyle says.

"You're such an idiot," Raven says, more to herself than anyone. There’s affection in her tone though that wasn’t there the last time Clarke had seen them together. She watches Kyle give Raven a dopey grin and wonders what’s changed.

“Yes, but I’m _your_ idiot,” He says, yanking her to his side.

_Oh._

It’s around this time that Miller interjects to say _hello_ , _welcome back_ , _thank you for not murdering Bellamy I know how he can be a lot sometimes,_ etcetera etcetera, and it’s all in all a nice evening. Bellamy brings her a can of beer and stands somewhat protectively at her side. She likes his presence though; she’s used to it, comforted by it even, after all those months spent just the two of them.

Then John Murphy shows up, and everything kind of escalates from there. At first, he and Bellamy are just chatting, mostly about training techniques Bellamy has missed over the last year of school. Then she hears it.

“Heard you’re a blood whore now, Blake,” Murphy says a little too loudly.

Clarke can’t see Bellamy’s face, what with her standing several feet away in a separate circle with Kyle and Raven, but she sees him tense up. She wishes she could be in his head right now, to know what he’s thinking. Stupid one-way bond.

Murphy’s voice drops lower, and Clarke tries to make out what he’s saying when Bellamy’s fist connects with Murphy’s face faster than seems humanly possible. But then again, none of them are human.

“Bellamy!” Octavia cries, jumping up from her seat next to a Dhampir named Anya.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Murphy growls, stumbling backwards and clutching his nose. Blood seeps through his fingers, and if Clarke didn’t dislike him so much, she’d heal him. But as it goes, she doesn’t like him, so she grabs onto Bellamy and tugs him backward.

The party is silent, everyone having just watched the whole scene. _Idiot,_ Clarke thinks, and she hopes Bellamy hears her.

Murphy is upright in seconds, blood trickling from his nose as he stalks towards them.

She slides herself in front of Bellamy and ignores his protests.

“Out of the way, princess,” Murphy sneers. Clarke hates the way Bellamy’s nickname for her rolls of Murphy’s tongue.

“No,” She says firmly. “I’m sure whatever it is, you deserved it.”

“Bet he fucked you good, Griffin,” Murphy continues. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be defending him.”

Clarke actually maybe sees red for a millisecond before Wells snaps, “Murphy, go home. Or at least to the infirmary to set your nose.”

Murphy rolls his shoulders. “Why don’t these two freaks go home instead?”

“Because I want them here,” Octavia says, marching over to the scene. “And I invited you here. So if you or anyone else has a problem, then you can leave.”

“This isn’t over, Blake,” Murphy spits at Bellamy. He wipes his dripping nose on the back of his hand and stalks off towards campus. Clarke notices a few others follow him, mostly Dhampirs but a few Morois as well. She’s pleased to know most of her friends don’t leave.

Everything sort of settles down after that, and after a while Clarke finds herself seated on a log next to Octavia, who’s talking about her Guardian trainer.

“He’s so hot, Clarke,” She says. “And kind. And absolutely lethal with a stake. Or even without one, really. I swear he’s like a god or something.”

“Wait,” Clarke says. “Are you talking about _Lincoln_?”

Octavia shoots her a look that says, _yeah, who else?_

“O, you’re seventeen.”

“Yeah, legal age of consent,” She says and laughs when Clarke makes a face. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve even gotten the chance to consent to anything. He’s so serious all the time. I just want him to notice me, you know?”

Clarke looks Octavia up and down. Both of them had done some growing up in recent years, but Octavia had blossomed. She was always cute, even when they were young, and while Clarke was a bit on the chubby side as a child, Octavia was a skeletal little thing that moved with the grace of a professional ballerina.

Now, she still has retained her ballerina grace, paired with bright green eyes shadowed by dark brows and complemented by full pink lips. She’s taller now, still long-legged but more elegantly so. She’s stunning, honestly.

So yeah, Clarke is pretty sure Lincoln’s noticed her. But that’s beside the point. “He’s too old for you, and much too serious, anyway.”

“I like serious,” Octavia says defensively, and Clarke thinks maybe Octavia’s crush is a little bigger than she first noticed.

Seeing the look on Octavia’s face, Clarke changes the subject. “So, Raven and Kyle, huh?”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Everyone saw it coming for miles, I mean, come on. But yeah, they’re sweet together when they’re not at each other’s throats or in each other’s pants.”

“Ew,” Clarke says out loud without meaning to.

“I hate high school,” Octavia says, her mouth twisting like she tasted something sour.

“At least all your friends like you,” Clarke says, glancing across the fire at Lexa.

“Oh, come off it, Clarke. Lexa just feels snubbed because you didn’t tell her you were leaving. Naturally her little minions followed her lead.”

“Great, so now more people don’t want to talk to me either?” Clarke groans.

“Hey,” Octavia says gently, nudging Clarke’s shoulder with her own. “You still have me. And Bellamy.”

Clarke’s eyes seek him out across the fire. He’s talking with Miller, seemingly unfazed by the scene he’d caused earlier, possibly in some weird attempt to defend her honor.

As if sensing her staring (or hearing her thoughts; Clarke is still practicing only projecting her thoughts onto him on command), Bellamy meets her gaze across the fire. He nods at her, and she knows it’s a question more than anything.

 _I’m fine_ , she thinks, hoping he can hear.

He must because he turns back around and laughs at something Miller is acting out.

“So weird.”

Clarke glances at Octavia. “What’s weird?”

“You and my brother. You guys have changed.”

Clarke thinks about the bond, and how she and Bellamy agreed it was best not to tell Octavia. “How so?”

“He looks at you differently,” Octavia says, pensive. “Which like, he has always looked at you differently,” And Clarke wants to know what the hell _that’s_ supposed to mean, “But you guys seem, I don’t know, closer somehow.”

 _If only you knew,_ Clarke thinks, but she says, “Eight months on a road trip together will do that to people.”

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t murder him.”

“I thought about it.”

“Are you gonna pick Bellamy to be your Guardian over me?”

Clarke blinks a few times in shock at Octavia’s sudden question. “What?”

“I always thought I’d be your Guardian, you know? But like, after all this stuff has happened, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” Octavia is staring at the fire, purposely avoiding Clarke’s gaze.

“Octavia, I-“

“He’s gonna be the best, Clarke,” She says, smiling a little. Her face turns serious again and she gives Clarke a pointed look. “You’d be lucky to have him, Guardian or not.”

Clarke spends the rest of the night telling herself she is entirely not sure what that’s supposed to mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter dragged on; I had a tough time with it. But I will never not be shocked at the feedback this has gotten. Thx so much to all of u beautiful ppl for believing in this thing I wrote <3
> 
> Also, in case it wasn't clear, I made Raven, Lexa and Wells Moroi and Octavia, Miller, Anya, Bellamy, Murphy and Wick Dhampirs. Jasper and Monty have not made an appearance yet (same with Finn), so I'll let the suspense build ;)
> 
> Kudos and comments are incredibly appreciated thx xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> very un-beta'd and probably not proofread enough times. some ~sexual tension~ in this chapter & some Octavia/Lincoln *heart eyes*

Bellamy's back hits the mat so hard he feels it in his skull. He groans and would try to curse or something, but the wind's been knocked out of him, so even breathing is difficult.

"See? I told you you're behind."

Bellamy glares up at Nathan Miller as he sits up and rolls his left shoulder to make sure he didn't dislocate anything. He takes Miller's proffered hand and swiftly uses the Dhampir's weight against him. They end up in a swinging dance-move sort of motion, and Miller's slammed onto the mat, Bellamy standing over him.

"Who's behind again?" Bellamy grins even though his shoulder is still throbbing a little.

He should have anticipated Miller's next move, but he's out of practice, so when Miller's feet knock his legs out from under him and Bellamy's on his back next to his friend, he moans as a jolt of pain spikes his left shoulder again.

"Still you," Miller says with a smile as he hops to his feet. This time, he doesn't offer Bellamy a hand, which Bellamy takes as a sign of truce (his shoulder's throbbing too much for him to keep on sparring anyway, but he'll be damned if he lets on about it).

"Miller, remember to use all of your weight against him, not just your legs."

Both boys are startled at Lincoln's quiet approach. He seems to have appeared out of thin air, but has clearly been watching the two spar for a few minutes. He spares a glance at Bellamy and says, "Blake, I suggest you get some ice on that shoulder so it won't be sore tomorrow."

Bellamy grumbles a thanks and limps over to the benches with Miller in tow. As he begins wrapping his shoulder in flexi-wrap and ice, he notices Lincoln approach Octavia, who is kicking the shit out of a rocking dummy. He feels a tug of suspicion as she kicks the entire thing onto its side and smiles widely at the older Guardian. Lincoln sets the dummy back upright and steps closer to Octavia, saying something too quietly for Bellamy to hear. His sister, however, appears enraptured by his every word.

"Picking up the slack on your token big brother role, I see," Miller snorts as he gulps down water from his squirt bottle.

"What's he even saying to her?" Bellamy asks because he can't help himself. "She's only a third year."

"Yeah, but she's a better fighter than any fourth year here, including you," Miller says, now with a mouthful of ice. "She's been trying to get him to spar with her for months. He won't bite though."

Bellamy watches Octavia laugh loudly, a sound he knows well, and sees Lincoln's answering smile. Bellamy didn't think the Guardian is capable of smiling, but Octavia tends to bring out the unexpected qualities in everyone she meets. He ties off the flexi-wrap around his shoulder and stands up with a stretch, testing the tightness, shaking off the strange feeling from what he just witnessed. "Wanna go again?" He asks Miller.

Nathan glances at Bellamy's wrapped shoulder and frowns. "You sure, Blake? Don't want to risk messing up your arm permanently."

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "C'mon, it takes a lot more than this to bring me down."

Miller looks like he's going to refuse, so Bellamy encourages him with, "Plus, this will prove my point that I could take you with one arm."

Miller scoffs and gets to his feet. "A point you made over a year ago when you were still training every day. You're on, then."

Bellamy grins as the two step back onto the mats, and they begin circling each other. Bellamy loves this part; the pounding of his heart against his ribcage, the heightened senses, the anticipation of who's going to make what move next. He could be a Guardian solely for the reason of fighting. He used to be the best, better than any fourth year and even some of the trainers. Now, he's out of practice, missed an entire school year of training, but some of it is just simple muscle memory. Like now, for instance, as he notices Miller leaning all his weight back on his right foot, and Bellamy knows to grab it as it comes swinging at him.

Miller yanks his leg from Bellamy's grasp and backs up, distancing himself and reanalyzing his approach.

Bellamy springs forward to grab Miller's outstretched hand and twist it behind his back when he stumbles and his mind goes blank. He hates when she catches him off-guard like this. Distantly, Bellamy hears Miller's voice and feels his friend's grip on his arm.

"Damn it, Clarke," Bellamy curses as his vision swims. Stupid one way bond.

Clarke is staring down at a laceration on her calf. It doesn't look too deep, but it looks self-inflicted, which makes Bellamy's heart hammer in his chest. He can feel the pain in his own leg, actually, and it _hurts_. _Tell me where you are_ , he thinks desperately. He wants her to glance up at her surroundings, to give him something, anything to alert him of her whereabouts. She does eventually look up, thankfully, and Bellamy sees she's in a girls' restroom.

It's all he needs to rush off the training grounds, ignoring Miller's startled yelp as Bellamy knocks him to the ground in his haste. There are a lot of bathrooms at the Academy, but he knows she should be in class right now, so he heads for the magic department.

He tries three bathrooms before he finds her. 

She's huddled in the corner, pressing a paper towel to her wound and breathing heavily. He ignores her, locks the bathroom door and rushes over, kneeling to do a quick scan for any other injuries. She looks pale and damp with sweat. "Clarke," He says, pressing a hand over hers on the paper towels. "What happened?"

She shakes her head, biting her lip with a hiss when he presses down firmer onto the cut. "You'll laugh," She huffs, closing her eyes.

"Try me," He says, meeting her pale blue gaze.

She stares at him for a moment, and he wishes he could be inside her head now more than anything. After several seconds, she says, "I healed a bird."

He blinks once. Twice. _What_.

"At least you're not laughing," Clarke smiles weakly.

"I thought we agreed no healing things that are close enough to death to do _this_ to _you_ ," He gestures to her leg where his hand is still pressed firmly. 

"You know my bleeding heart," She snorts, trying to laugh.

Her voice is ragged and exhausted-sounding. Bellamy's confused. She's healed far more than a little bird before and never been this weak. The only explanation could be... "When's the last time you had a meal?"

She groans and makes a show of rolling her eyes. "Wednesday."

"You haven't eaten yet since we've been back? That's two whole days."

"I _know_ ," She snaps.

"What gives?"

She flushes a bright pink and shakes her head.

"Clarke-"

"I tried to go yesterday, and the day before, but-" She pauses, bites her lip, and looks anywhere but at him.

"But what?"

"None of them tasted as good as you."

Bellamy feels his eyes go wide before he can control his expression. She'd said before that his blood was sweeter than most, but she never mentioned anything about her preference of it. He's not as bothered as he thinks he probably should be by this admission.

"This isn't my asking, or anything," She continues. "I wouldn't- I won't ask you for that again. I'm just being a brat, I guess, so I need to suck it up."

"Didn't know I was so irresistible, Princess," He says, and he doesn't know where the words come from because this isn't him. He doesn't flirt, especially with Clarke Griffin, his little sister's best friend, heir to the Moroi throne and possibly his future boss.

She turns pink again and swats at him, albeit weakly.

He smirks and slides his black training t-shirt to the side, exposing his neck. "I know you're hungry," He says.

"No," She shakes her head, although her eyes never leave his throat. "I know Murphy called you a bloodwhore, and I don't- that's not fair to you."

"Screw John Murphy," Bellamy says, leaning forward and tilting his head to the side. "Yes, I'm sure," He says when she opens her mouth as if to ask the question.

She frowns but closes the distance between them. He feels her lips press against his pulse point and waits with baited breath. When she does bite down, he shivers at the pleased little noise she makes in her throat. The numbing feeling returns, and he sighs as it spreads pleasantly throughout his whole body. He knows this is technically wrong and technically not allowed on school grounds and technically does make him a bloodwhore, but he honestly can't find the energy to care, not when it feels _so fucking good_.

Growing up, Bellamy thought being bitten by a vampire would be the ultimate worst and most painful thing that could ever happen. Of course, at the time he hadn't understood the difference between good vampires and bad ones. Now, though, with Clarke's hand cupping the back of his neck and her mouth on his throat and an indescribable warmth pooling in his stomach, he almost has to laugh.

Clarke pulls away after a minute or two, a trace of blood on her lips and color back in her cheeks. She looks at him as if in a haze, and Bellamy can't help reaching up with his free hand to wipe the drop of blood from her bottom lip. Her tongue darts out to lick the blood off his thumb before he can pull away, and the movement causes his breath to catch and a sharp tug below his abdomen.

He drops his hand like he touched something hot and clears his throat, suddenly aware of how close they are on the floor in the corner of the bathroom.

Clarke's eyes widen, and she shifts uncomfortably as well. "Thanks," She says quietly, her cheeks pinker than they were a moment ago.

"What are friends for?" He says, trying to relieve some of the tension. He lifts his hand to look at her cut, which has now stopped bleeding and is already beginning to heal. "No more birds, okay? At least ones that are on the brink of death."

She rolls her eyes again, smiling a little. "Okay."

Later, after Bellamy escorts Clarke back to class, he heads back to the training grounds, even though he knows sessions are well over and everyone is probably in the dining hall for dinner. He stops when he hears grunts and huffs coming from the mats, and leans around a pillar to see his sister and of all people, Lincoln, locked in combat.

They're the only ones on the mats, and at first, Bellamy wants to interrupt, to ask what business Lincoln would have with a third year. But then Octavia knocks the Guardian onto his back with a sharp battle cry. Lincoln grunts as he hits the mat, and Octavia laughs loudly, jumping up and down in victory. Soon enough though, Lincoln has grabbed an ankle and pulled her down beside him. They're both laughing now, and Bellamy suddenly feels like he's imposing on a private moment.

He heads back to his dorm with a strange feeling in his stomach, changes for dinner and makes sure to keep his collar popped up to hide the bite marks on his neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still in shock at the feedback this has gotten. sorry it took so long to update. thanks for your patience, ur all angels <3
> 
> come cry with me on [tumblr](http://grimmyneutron.tumblr.com)


End file.
